Kind Of A Crazy Story
by ReynaRed
Summary: He brought out the best in me. Or the worst. It depends on how you look at it... As long as you don't look too hard.


_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. _Celery, bread, Post-It notes, and canned tomato sauce.

"Do you have a Glenn's value card with you today, Ma'am?" The old woman squinted at me through her smudged glasses and shook her head. The frizzled curls framing her face swooshed about, sending small whisps of gray onto my register. _Okay, ew. _"Your total comes to nine dollars and sixteen cents." She rummaged around in her carpet purse and pulled out a twenty and grudgingly slapped it into my palm. I put the money in the register and handed her the change and a receipt. "Paper or plastic?" It was an awfully old-fashioned thing to say; most people said plastic. But I always asked anyway.

"Plastic," she wheezed. I expertly bagged her things and eased them into her bony arms.

"Have a nice night," I said, my face stretching into a fake grin. The frazzled woman grunted, and hobbled towards the exit. I relaxed my smile, letting my cheeks fall to their natural state. I glanced at the old clock above the magazine stand. 11:32. She would be the only customer for a while.

I sat back on my stool and let out a huff of breath. Sunday nights were always the slowest. I removed my nametag and polished the metal with my hideous, salmon-pink, polyester smock. I raised the tag to my eyes. The scratched black lettering was _supposed _to say "Elizabeth Kendall." Instead, it read "Elizabeth Ken." I'd have to ask the manager for a new one soon. I sighed and replaced the pin on my smock, waiting for someone to wander in to the little convenience store.

Usually around midnight, I'd have to deal with a rude mob boss (or two) looking for a cheap pack of smokes. We sold cigarettes of course, but the slime-balls would _always _try to negotiate for a cheaper price. Which of course, isn't how Glenn's Grocery rolls.

Leaning forward onto my elbows, I tried to think of something to do. I'd already re-stocked the paper towels, and the canned goods had been re-organized according to contents. What else was there to do? I looked up at the clock again. 11:36.

"_Ugh." _I groaned and stood up from my stool. I walked over to the glass window and stood underneath the glowing green 'OPEN' sign. My eyes roamed the empty, rainy streets. It didn't look like anyone was out, and it would be another two hours before Craig would come and relieve me of my late-night duties.

Sleeping was out of the question. Glenn had already caught me snoozing at the register once. There had been no one in the store, but he'd told me that if I were ever caught dozing at work again, he'd fire me. No third strike for Liza.

I pulled out my cell and scrolled through my pictures. That killed three minutes. I snapped my phone shut and slid it back into my purse. The rain drizzled down the glass window as I drummed my fingers against the chipped countertop. _Thumthumthum, thumthumthum, thumthumthum. _Two minutes down. I yanked an elastic from my wrist and gathered my golden-brown hair into a messy ponytail. Forty-five seconds. I looked at the clock: 11:43. _My god. _

_Ding. _My eyes shot back down to the entrance where a tall man in a dirty green hoodie and ripped jeans was shouldering the door open. I sat up straight, in the proper employee fashion. The man kept his head down and his shoulders hunched as he marched into the pharmaceuticals aisle. _Great, a druggie. Hope he isn't hiding a gun in that filthy jacket. _He emerged only a minute or two later, carrying a box of Tylenol, Aspirin, and eye drops. I raised an eyebrow. My druggie suspicion had just been confirmed. Scanning the items I looked up, trying to get a good look at his face. But he was turned to the side, his head still hanging low. All I could see were a few locks of greasy blond curls that had escaped the hood of his jacket.

"That um, that'll be eleven twenty-three, Sir." He reached into his hoodie's large pocket and I winced, half expecting him to pull a gun out of the fabric. Instead, he slapped a crumpled fifty down on the counter and grabbed his items. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the store, after muttering a rough "Keep the change."

I stared after him, slightly confused. Looking like that, I doubted that he could afford to be so generous. I shrugged lightly and cashed in the fifty, sliding the change into my pocket.

Finally, at 1:35, Craig shuffled into the store. His collar had been turned up against the rain, which was now pounding relentlessly against the windows. I stood from my stool, pulling my smock over my head as I did so. I grabbed my purse from underneath the counter and slung it over my shoulder.

"See ya tomorrow, Craig," I called as I walked towards the exit. A muffled grunt followed me out the door. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew me sideways, and sent a fine spray of muddy water into my eyes. "Shit." I scrambled to get my coat on, running to the street as I flailed. Finally, I'd managed to slip on my jacket, but it was too late. I was soaked through. I shuddered and stepped onto the sidewalk, making my way to my apartment.


End file.
